I'll be home
by nicola de lenfent
Summary: One-shot. Bonnie's back, but different... but then again, so is Damon.


_**I'll be home**_

_She's something else to you, isn't she?_

It had been three weeks since their failed rescue mission, and seven days until the next full moon. Seven days before he needed another witch. And in that time, Elena's words went from accusing to perceptive to clairvoyant to fucking ominous.

Accusing, because it meant he had been lying to Elena – just not in the way she thought. Perceptive, because even he hadn't dared to realize it, let alone say it aloud. Clairvoyant, because it had blossomed from inkling to gnawing, gut-wrenching truth. So much so that Bonnie wasn't just _something else_, she was _everything else_.

And ominous because, try as he might, Damon just couldn't figure out how to get her back.

Bonnie's former friends had all decided it was better to help useless Gemini witches than a Bennett who had risked her life time and again to save theirs. Who had, apparently, given up the very thing that made her a witch, to protect them all from Kai. Who had given up an easy out back into the living to protect _them_ from _him_, and he had got out anyway.

_Fuck them._

He had thought about her every day. Hell, every moment.

When he woke up, and he couldn't hear her mumbling. When he sat in the kitchen, and wondered what the hell she was eating – _if_ she was eating. At first, he avoided blueberries and whipped cream and plaid and aviators and '90s music. But soon enough, he was saving the crossword puzzles for her, and trying to remember all the clever one-liners he was dying to say.

And when he wasn't thinking about what she was up to, he would think about what he would do differently next time. He would go alone. He would meet her halfway. He would grab her hand and he wouldn't let go – not when they got back and it felt awkward, not so long as Kai was still alive.

It was so normal to think about Bonnie that it became infuriating to him that no one else did the same.

Elena had come around with her doe eyes, but had done nothing useful to help him get to her. She had even excused Alaric's galling behaviour. Damon didn't have time for that. Caroline wasn't much better, and Stefan was only happy that Damon had returned – he didn't care about _how, _or _at what cost_. As for Jeremy, Damon cut him out of any future rescue missions when, upon realizing how he felt, he called Bonnie's number and was met with a chipper, automated voice sating: _This number is no longer in service._

He fucking said he loved her to a machine with someone else's voice.

_Why am I the only one who cares? Why am I the only one who is doing anything?_

_Yeah, _Stefan had said after one of his long, meaningful stares, _why are you?_

Damon loved her, and he realized it too late.

Bennett blood? Check.

Natural, celestial event like a full moon or a comet? Check – the eclipse.

Object that was used to bind a Bennett spell? Check – the moon stone was easy enough to locate in the Lockwood manor.

Magic? Double check – turns out the witches' house Damon had showed her was one great big object filled with magic. It didn't take long for her to, once again, hold their power in her hands.

Bonnie was ready to go home.

After she had cried herself to exhaustion on that porch, Bonnie had forced herself to list, aloud, the things she knew:

One: Kai was free.

Which meant, two: whoever remained of his family was in danger.

And, three: Damon had come back for her.

Bonnie repeated these truths every morning. Each one, she considered in turn – she wondered what Kai was really capable of; she wondered if she could make it back, by herself, without the ascendant, to save his family; she wondered if Damon had come back because their friends were in trouble and they needed her.

It took her a couple weeks to figure everything out and get everything in its place. Even then, Bonnie put it off for three days after she had all of the items assembled. Twice, she was about to start the spell, but hesitated long enough for the moment to pass.

_What are you waiting for?_ Or – _who?_

But no one was coming back for her. Even though they knew she was alive, for whatever reason, they couldn't – or wouldn't – return.

So, one May 10, 1994, Bonnie closed her eyes, held the moonstone tight, and broke the spell.

When she opened her eyes, Bonnie found herself on the edge of a graveyard covered in snow, at the foot of her grandmother's grave.

_Winter, sometime… how long had it been since Portland Thanksgiving?_

She furrowed her brows together. _It couldn't be… _She frowned. _Was it, Christmas eve?_

Bonnie pulled Damon's old leather jacket tighter around her form. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and pressed her legs together. _Maybe coming back in overalls and a t-shirt wasn't the best idea_. But she hadn't been sure it would work, or when exactly she'd end up, or where.

Bonnie took a step towards Mystic Falls, then hesitated. She looked around, and felt the weight of disappointment bend her shoulders. She was still alone.

She allowed herself a single tear, because, now that she was back, she had no idea where to go.

Damon blinked three long times before he believed it. He forgot to swallow the bourbon, and it trickled down his chin.

_Was he hallucinating now?_

Because that girl was so, so poorly dressed for the weather. And those legs looked so familiar. He heard the rasp of her jacket zipper, and then she turned, and their eyes met. The bottle of bourbon fell to the ground, cracking open against a headstone.

Bonnie's brows were knit together. Her lips parted, and her breath fogged out between them.

She heard it before he said it: _Bonnie._

"Bonnie."

Damon's voice was so low and full of air that he wasn't sure he'd spoken at all. Until he saw her look directly at him, until he saw her expression falter.

His face was so tense – brows tugged close, jaw clenching, eyes scanning every inch of her – that she almost broke. She almost gave in to the childish part of her that wanted to run forward and throw her arms around him, to bury her face in his neck and sob, to pretend that she was safe.

She took a deep breath instead. "Damon?"

Bonnie's voice was markedly different. She sounded almost, _surprised _to see him – when really, he was the one surprised. He was the one whose head was spinning.

He took two steps toward her, and found himself running, stopping just short of touching her.

_Because what if she wasn't real? What if she disappeared?_

"Is it really you?" His hand reached up, as if to touch her face, but just hovered above her skin. Not daring to make contact. Her eyes were _different_, somehow. More guarded, maybe? Borderline suspicious.

Her teeth chattered. "What are you doing here?"

"I like to drink in graveyards," he said. His eyes were so large and wide, like he couldn't see enough of her – like he couldn't blink or he'd miss something. He shook his head as he stared at her. "How did you…"

"Loopholes," Bonnie said. He waited for a better explanation, but she didn't offer one. "Our friends – what's happened to them?"

"Nothing…" Damon said, more confused than ever.

"Nothing?" Her lips were turning blue. "Elena? Caroline?"

"They're fine," Damon said, ticking off the names: "Jeremy, Matt, Stefan… All fine."

She shivered and averted her eyes. Staring into the distance he watched, in awe, as they shifted from sweet and soft to hard and distant. Her lips stopped trembling. When she turned back to him, he was, again, struck with the idea that maybe she was an apparition after all.

"Oh," she said.

"Come," When she didn't move, just stared up at him, Damon grabbed her hand, _tightly_, and tugged her forward.

Bonnie shivered as they stalked towards the car. She almost tripped on her feet keeping up with him. She had forgotten what _cold_ was like. She had almost forgotten about snow. About Christmas, and Hanukah, and holiday parties, and trees with lights, and gingerbread. She felt dizzy with the scent of pine trees and the sound of snow crunching under her shoes.

Every stomp sounded like _Bon-nie. _Every stumble sounded like _Da-mon._

Damon tried to contain his smile, but was failing miserably. He forced himself to look away from her, instead. He interlaced their fingers, her cold skin against his, and rubbed his thumb against her wrist.

_This was enough_, he thought, _for now_.

"I would offer you my jacket, but-" When they got to the car, Damon looked pointedly at what she was wearing, a half smile appearing and disappearing on his face. She pulled the zipper up higher.

"Sorry," she said, "You can have it ba-"

"Keep it," he said.

His eyes ran over her once, twice. She didn't know what he was looking for. She felt stiff under his inspection. She dropped his hand and shoved both of hers in her oversized pockets. His jaw ticked, but she ignored it. He opened the passenger door, sharply, and raised a brow as she slid inside.

In the time it took for Damon to walk from her door to his, and slide the key in the ignition, she let her mind wander.

_They were all fine, and they hadn't come for her. Three weeks, and they hadn't found a way to save her. She had arrived as alone as she had left._

_It was unreasonable to think anyone would know she would be returning, just at that second_, Bonnie thought with a shake of her head, _they couldn't sit around a graveyard and wait for her._

_And yet…_

"Where to?" Damon's voice was as breathless as she felt. It was light and airy and almost comically casual.

If he hadn't been starving for the sound of her voice, if he hadn't been on high alert for every wisp of breath that passed between her lips, he might have missed her next words.

"I don't know."

Damon took Bonnie home. To his most recent home – an apartment building off campus, with easy access to the Whitmore Reference Library, and off of a main road that led to the cemetery.

He could have taken her to the dorm room she used to share with Elena and Caroline, or to Caroline's current abode, or even called Matt or Jeremy to come pick her up. But he wasn't ready to share her. Or rather, he didn't think he should have to.

"This is new," Bonnie said as she walked inside. She looked around, and fought the smirk pulling up at her lips. That damned _hope_ was bubbling up again. As she watched Damon walk inside, wave his arms around, and smile at her with satisfaction in his eyes, she felt it clench her stomach.

"Yeah," he rocked back on his heel. He could feel himself smiling, but he couldn't shake it this time. Because _there she was: _Bonnie Bennett, standing in his doorway, in his old jacket, colour coming back to her face. "No magic in Mystic Falls, so…"

_Fuck, would you just _look _at her?_ There was snow in her hair, and her cheeks were starting to color again. Sure, she looked tired, and her sneakers were soaked. But she was alive, and she was here. He felt like he dreamt her up out of sheer desperation. He couldn't wait to make her pancakes in the morning. He wondered if he had any whipped cream.

"Oh."

He was so restless. His hands settled in his pockets, then clasped together, then he cracked his knuckles and put them back into his pockets. He looked like he was one step away from launching to the moon.

Damon Salvatore was, unabashedly, happy.

He was so bright, Bonnie had to avert her eyes. She couldn't process it. Not when there was still so much to do. She repeated her truths.

"Kai…" she saw his shoulders fall in her peripheral vision.

"If he-" Damon took one step forward and growled.

"He's back." Her gaze was skittish – jumping from him, to the table with the bourbon, to him again.

"Yeah," he said.

"His family," she said, "We have to help them." Bonnie walked toward him. He could see her mind turning.

"Trust me," Damon held out a hand between them. "They have all the help they need."

"_I_ have to help," Bonnie clarified. "It's my fault he got out. I-"

"It's not your fault," Damon barked. She felt the heat of his gaze on her. His smile had disappeared from his voice. "You saved us, Bonnie. Both of us."

"Why did you come back for me?"

The question hung in the air between them.

"How can you even ask that?"

Bonnie turned her face, slowly, to his. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes desperate. Her voice was softer now, floating over him: "Why?"

"You take the room," Damon's voice was hard. "I'll sleep on the couch."

She opened her mouth again, but he interrupted with finality: "Goodnight, Bonnie."

Miss Cuddles was waiting for her on Damon's bed.

It took Bonnie two long hours of tossing and turning before she finally fell asleep.

Damon listened to every creak of the bed, every toss of the sheet. She got up and paced. If she cried, she did it quietly.

_Something was wrong with Bonnie_. He felt it in his gut. She was there, but she was different. Distant. Cold. She wasn't smiling. She hadn't jumped up into his arms, like he'd imagined a thousand times.

And when she finally fell asleep, she didn't say a word.

Bonnie seemed different, and Damon wasn't the only one who noticed, but he felt like the only one who cared. Maybe her friends chalked it up to whatever they thought had happened in Kai's prison. Maybe they expected it to be an adjustment for her. Maybe they were just assholes.

"Give her time," he overheard Caroline saying to Elena. "She's been through so much."

"She's still our Bonnie," he heard Matt insist.

In between talking about how to take down Kai, the conversation shifted to lights and parties and gift exchanges.

"Obviously, we don't expect you to get anything for anyone," Elena had hastily added to the girl who had given them back their lives. Damon's eyes had rolled so hard they nearly fell out of his head.

Damon almost wished they had stayed in 1994, _sans Kai_. Because all he wanted was to be alone with Bonnie, and it was the one thing he could no longer have.

They had all come out of the woodworks, every last one of them: Tyler and Alaric with their figurative tails between their legs, Liv and Luke and Jo without a semblance of guilt about anything that had happened to Bonnie because of their psychotic brother, and the almost irrelevant hangers on who had been, and remained, utterly inept: Elena, Caroline and Stefan.

Bonnie had saved both of them – Damon, and herself. And she had not yet railed at any of them for not saving her. For not doing enough. She hadn't yelled at him, yet, either, for leaving her. For not coming back, sooner. For not finding a way to stay behind, with her, where he belonged.

Instead, she had shut herself up inside herself, like a walking embodiment of that witches' house, filled with booby traps that made her close up if he said the wrong thing or looked at her the wrong way.

And now she was planning on killing Kai. But not for herself – for _them_. The thought left a bitter taste in Damon's mouth that resulted in a permanent disgruntled snarl that could barely be disguised with bourbon.

Bonnie was coming back, slowly. He saw the ghost of her, sometimes, behind those sharp, guarded eyes. She talked in her sleep most nights. She made him coffee, the way he liked it. She started on that pile of crosswords. And, best of all, she went back to not wearing bras.

The best plans always involved Bonnie at the brink of death.

When she announced that she could take Kai on alone – without the _three other witches involved_ – Damon wanted to snap her damn neck himself.

"I have the power of a hundred witches," Bonnie said. "I've killed him before."

Matt and Jeremy – who might actually talk her out of it – were annoyingly absent. Alaric and Tyler both refused to meet his gaze. Caroline told her to be careful. Elena expressed her faith in Bonnie's abilities. Stefan shot him questioning look, but Damon drowned his words in bourbon.

_I didn't bring you back for you to die, _he wanted to scream. But he checked himself, every fucking time, because he didn't bring her back. He failed her.

"Are you trying to get back at me?" Damon asked her one day, from across the breakfast table, his eyes deceptively on the sports page.

"What are you talking about?" She glanced at him over the edge of her coffee mug.

He stared at her until their eyes met.

"Why are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I'm trying to kill Kai."

"Why are you putting yourself in harm's way?" Damon slammed his fist on the table. "Why are you risking your life, _again? _For those _idiots_?"

"What do you care?"

Damon glared at her, and she glared right back.

"You should tell her," Stefan said. He didn't need to specify _what, _or _who_.

But Damon didn't want to tell her. Because Bonnie Bennett couldn't love him back. He knew that. And even more, she _shouldn't _love him back. She deserved so much better than him – love, and light, and laughter. Not some idiot who snuck into what used to be his room when she was gone, just to pick up her scent on his sheets.

Not some fuckwit vampire who couldn't even bring her back.

"You're the last person I need romantic advice from," Damon said. He glanced at the teddy bear: "Miss Cuddles agrees."

Bonnie never went back to her dorm, or into Mystic Falls. After a day of planning and plotting and practicing magic, she came back with Damon to his house. She slept in his bed, without him. She cooked him breakfast, too, sometimes. She made a point of throwing his pancakes over the verandah, into the snow.

She never asked to stay, and Damon never asked her to leave.

It never crossed her mind that she might be inconveniencing him. That there might be somewhere else she should be. That he might not want her hanging around, repeating her truths in her sleep.

But Damon never forgot that Bonnie had people, even if they didn't deserve her. She could have stayed with Caroline, or Matt, or gone back to Jeremy. She could have even moved out on her own.

So every time a meeting ended and they said their goodbyes, his stomach twisted as he waited to see – _would she stay, or would she go? _Every time he walked in and she was there, waiting for him – _no, expecting him_ – he couldn't help the smile that blossomed on his face from one corner to the other.

He had tried to stop it. He had told himself, _don't smile, don't smile, don't smile_, as he turned the key in the door. But every single time, like the most annoying muscle memory ever, it happened.

The only thing that kept him from being absolutely mortified was that sometimes, slowly, she would let slip a smile herself.

Damon couldn't think of a single thing better than coming home to Bonnie Bennett.

Damon didn't give up.

Some days, admittedly, it was hard. Those were usually the days that involved Elena, Caroline, Tyler or Alaric. Basically anyone that wanted anything from Bonnie. Because when she saw them, she shifted from _almost Bonnie _to _zombie Bonnie_. She stiffened, she froze, she spoke less. She was _so focused _on killing Kai that she forgot how to live.

But he kept holding on, and hoping she'd break free of her self-imposed prison. He didn't give up, because when it came to Bonnie Bennett, he had never learned how.

One day, Bonnie came home to find the television was gone. In its place was a crater in the wall, and bits of glass on the floor. She swept it up without asking questions. Then she grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, and leaned back on the couch to admire it.

Damon came home minutes later, rubbing the back of his head. When he looked at her, his shoulders snapped back and his chin tilted up. Like he dared her to say something.

"What happened?" Bonnie took a swig of her beer.

"I was trying to change the channel," Damon replied, falling onto the couch beside her. He took the beer from her, pressed his lips where hers had been, and swallowed. Then he handed it back.

"How did that work out for you?"

"Pretty good," Damon said. "Obviously."

"1994 wasn't so far in the past that we didn't have remote controls," Bonnie said. Her lips turned up at the corners, and she swung her head to look at him. He smiled back. And then, as quickly as she came, she disappeared. Back into the shell that looked like Bonnie.

He grabbed the beer again. They passed it back and forth a few times, in silence.

"Don't do it," Damon said.

"I have to," she replied.

"Let me help," he begged.

"Damon," Bonnie said his name like a sigh, "You can't."

Damon was different.

Even behind her walls and walls of steely determination, Bonnie felt it. She would think about it after she killed Kai, she promised. When everyone was safe. When the whole ordeal was over. Then she would think about Damon, and the way he looked at her. Damon, and the way he listened to her. Damon, and the unspoken reason for just why he had come back.

Well, then she would think about him _deliberately_.

Because since she got back, he was the only thing she enjoyed thinking about. When he smiled at her – not the wicked smirk, but the soft, gentle smile – she almost forgot her truths.

Every night, Bonnie thought about him, lying on that cramped couch. How close he was. When she couldn't believe that she was actually back, she was tempted to reach out and touch him.

When she felt panicky about all the living she had missed being dead, being the anchor, being trapped in Kai's prison… she sat down with Damon and felt content.

When he put his arm around her, or his hand on her knee, she felt safe. When he looked at her like she was a Christmas miracle, she felt… well, she felt incredible.

She tried to shut it from her mind. She didn't need distractions. She didn't need to be confused, and she certainly didn't need to be inviting Damon and Elena drama into her life.

If she could just kill Kai, it would all be over. She wouldn't feel so responsible. She would have her closure. She could move on.

And those hidden parts of her? The ones that told her, she had to confront her so-called friends? The ones that screamed that her feelings couldn't be ignored? The ones that didn't want her to move on, because she would have to move out? The ones that knew, when Kai was gone, she had no reason to rely on Damon anymore? The ones that wanted nothing more than to feel the safety of his fingers locked up in hers – well, she just froze those out.

"Stop asking me not to do it," Bonnie had said one day after a particularly heated exchange.

"I don't give up," Damon had replied, just as sharply. "Not on you."

Everyone had assembled at Caroline's home for the last meeting. She had almost made an event of it – with hot chocolate, and cookies, and ugly Christmas sweaters. It was disgusting.

Damon showed up late. He had undisclosed business to take care of. And he had derailed so many meetings at that point that no one really missed him. Except Bonnie.

She stood up when he walked in the door.

He could barely keep from rolling his eyes at the scene. Alaric and Jo were _canoodling_. Tyler had his arm around Liv. Elena and Caroline were chatting with Luke. It was almost like they all forgot who was really putting herself on the line, _when she didn't have to. _Who had come back to life, just to die, _again. _

Damon almost snapped all of their necks, just to prove a point.

But then Bonnie's arm was on his, and her eyes almost looked familiar.

"Tomorrow," Bonnie said. It felt strange to say that word to Damon. They hadn't had any tomorrows, not real ones, for so long. And now, suddenly, they were piling up on her: Christmas, New Years' Eve, New Years' Day. "Jo's going to lure him out of Mystic Falls for the merge, and I'll be waiting. Liv and Luke are already making themselves scarce, just in case."

Damon didn't look at her. He stalked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of eggnog and swallowed it down. Then he pulled a flask of bourbon from his jacket pocket and finished that off too.

Bonnie followed him, as if the other room wasn't filled with all the people she was just _so_ eager to die for. He blinked at her, realising that she was waiting for him to say something.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I can kill him," Bonnie said.

"He can kill you," Damon reminded her.

"He won't," Bonnie said.

They were both struck, simultaneously, with the same memory: an arrow through her stomach, a split-second decision.

"Not this time," Bonnie said.

_You're fucking right about that, _Damon almost said it out loud.

"You don't have to save them." Damon felt like a broken record. He walked past her to the kitchen door, and she turned on the spot to face him.

"Yes, I do!" He froze at her words. Then he closed the kitchen door and turned back to face her.

"No," Damon shut the door and turned back to face her, "You don't, Bonnie."

"Damon," she tapped her foot like she was talking to a child. "If I don't do something, then what's the point? What's the point of even being here, if I just let Kai win?"

Damon hesitated. She looked at him with those desperate eyes, welling up with emotion for the first time in ages, and he couldn't breathe. He felt like she had punched him in the gut. He forgot English – every last word fizzled into letters that fell soundlessly out of his mouth.

_To live_, he could have said. _To be happy. To be mine._

"They didn't save _you_," he argued instead. "Alaric wouldn't get the ascendant; Tyler pulled me out of the spell-"

"They didn't have a choice, Liv and Jo-" Bonnie shook her head ruefully.

Damon rolled the words out slowly: "There's always a choice."

Bonnie pressed her lips together. "Damon, if I still believe that…" she averted her eyes, "then I have to accept that no one chose me."

He said: "Except me."

"That none of my friends…" She spoke as if he hadn't. She took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes. "They didn't care about me."

"Except me!" Damon yelled.

It was almost like she didn't want to hear him. She didn't want to acknowledge it. That he would deign to have feelings for her. That he would dare to tell her, over and over again, through actions, if not through words.

"I can't do this," Bonnie said, her voice suddenly calm. She shook her head as if she could shake him off. She tried to side step him, but he got in her way.

"Say _something_," Damon insisted. "Aren't you angry? Aren't you pissed off?"

She tried to step away again, but he only moved closer, crowding her with his body, trapping her with gestures that were both wild and careful. Even now, he didn't touch her.

Bonnie met his searching eyes with her stony ones. She gritted her teeth and took one loud, deep breath to calm the emotions bubbling at the bottom of her throat.

"Aren't you mad at me?" Damon's voice picked up. He taunted her: "I left you, Bonnie! I wasn't there when I promised I'd save you. I didn't come back for you. I left you for dea-"

"Yes," Bonnie interrupted, her voice a hot, thick whisper. Her eyes shut for a long moment, and when they opened again, they were filled with hot tears. Her hands curled into fists at her side, and her whole body shook. And yet, her voice was still a measured, forced calm when she continued: "Yes, I'm mad at you, Damon. But I'm even madder mad at myself for selfishly hoping that you might come back, _for me_, when you were here, at home, with Elena-"

"I'm not with Elena," Damon snapped. "Haven't you noticed? I haven't been with Elena since I was with you."

"You're not making any sense," Bonnie said.

"I love _you_."

Bonnie sucked in a sharp breath that almost made him take it back. _Almost._

"Ican't even think straight if you're not right in front of me, and I am barely surviving not being allowed to touch you," he took a steadying breath and ran his fingers through his hair, "or talk to you. Fuck them, Bon-Bon. _Save me_."

"You… what?" Bonnie was taken aback. She literally took two steps away from him, like he would lash out and hurt her with the strength of his declaration.

"_I_ will bring you home every single time, Bonnie. Every time."

He was railing now, spitting out words faster than they could register in his brain, but he couldn't stop. Not when she was looking at him like that. As if her heart jump-started back to life, as if it hadn't been beating until this moment.

"You want to get drained dry by a vampire? You want to disappear on an island with Professor Crazypants? _I_'ve got you, Bon. The Other Side is _nothing _to me. Not a damn thing. And _I _was coming back for you. _Bonnie, I was coming back_."

"Damon…"

"I don't know if it's because I couldn't live with myself," his wide blue eyes softened in a way that both thrilled and terrified her, "or because I can't live without you."

"I have to…" Air whooshed in and out of her lungs at an alarming rate, but she still felt like she couldn't breathe. She clutched a nearby chair to steady herself. Her knuckles paled and he was silent as she tried to steady the world, and set it back on its axis. Right side up.

_This was… this was…_ She glanced up, and the image of him blurred behind tear-filled eyes.

"All you have to do," Damon said, his eyes searching hers, "is say you missed me, too."

He saw her there, behind that cool façade. He almost thawed her out. But then she pressed her lips together and stood a little taller. Before the moment passed, he rushed on: "Did you?"

Her answer was barely audible, but it almost kick-started his long-dead heart: "Yes."

"Okay," Damon said. Then he smiled, and it was too much.

Bonnie was crying. Finally, finally, crying.

When she tried to turn to hide her tears, he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into a tight embrace. He nudged her face up, his nose against her cheek, his words against her lips. Soft and low, like they would crumble if they were heard by other ears.

"Bonnie, I never really left you. My mind has always been on you. I couldn't think about anything except getting you back." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "I still can't."

"I _am_ back."

"No," he said, staring at her eyes until they flicked up to meet his. "You're not."

Because he let his mask slip, she felt hers begin to crack. She looked at him longer. Her eyes were softer. Her kind words were more frequent. She even made a few inside jokes that only he got.

But most importantly, she touched him. She leaned against him, and into him. She might chat with Caroline or Matt, but she would always come back, and touch base with him. He ran his fingers against her palm, and her eyes almost heated up at the contact.

It's like she was telling the whole room, _hell, the whole world, _she was with him. Bonnie was with _him._

She didn't kiss him, or say that she loved him, too – but she smiled at him, and that was the same thing. Or maybe it was better.

When she left him that morning, Bonnie's icy edges were finally beginning to thaw.

She thought she was clever, sneaking out before he woke up. She even paused to lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his forehead. She smoothed his hair back, and a cold tear landed on his face. She wiped it away. Then she got up and closed the door softly behind her.

Damon followed closely behind

_I love you_, he had said. And she hadn't said anything back.

_You don't have to save them, _he had insisted. And she had gone anyway.

For the most part, the plan worked.

Mid-merge, Bonnie showed up and sent Kai flying back across the Mystic Falls border. Jo ran into Alaric's waiting car. Kai charged at her, cloaking himself mid-stride.

But she sensed him, and she fought back.

They were both bloody and bruised when Kai sent a rock into her forehead, cracking her skin and sending a trail of blood from her temple to her chin. He was towering over, when it happened, about to deliver a final blow. And she was about to push herself up, to give it one last go, to dare to cling to _hope_, when it happened.

An arrow shot through Kai's abdomen. Then another, and another. He fell to the ground, still reaching out for her. She scrambled backwards, confused, until she looked up and saw him.

Damon was standing over Kai's shoulder, crossbow in hand, another arrow aimed right at his head. When he got close enough, he kicked Kai over and away from Bonnie. He pressed his boot into his throat.

"I thought I told you not to touch her," Damon said, as he pulled the arrows out of Kai's chest. Each one made a sick, gushing noise as blood started to pour out. "Don't fuck with the people I love."

"I thought she was the one," Kai managed to eke out a few final words. "Who came back…" He coughed up some blood. "After you fought."

"I didn't have to come back," Damon snarled. "I never left."

It didn't matter that Kai died with no clue what Damon meant.

Because Bonnie knew. Her eyes flicked up to his, and he felt her, there, strongly – vulnerable, and free.

And in his heart he knew that he did that. He melted her. And he felt free, too.

With Kai gone, Bonnie had one last truth to conquer, and one more to add to the pile.

Previous truth: _Damon had come back for her._

New truth: _Damon was in love with her._

That night, when they got home, after they each showered, but before the adrenaline wore off, Bonnie kissed him.

He stepped out of the shower, complaining about her using all of the hot water _again_, when she grabbed him by the towel around his waist and pulled him into her. She leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips desperately against his.

Damon couldn't hide his reaction if he tried. He let the towel fall between them, clutched her by the small of the back, and turned them both until her shoulder blades met a wall. He rested his hand against that wall, beside her face. Because his knees were weak, and her warm mouth was making him dizzy.

"Bonnie," he paused as she caught her breath.

But she didn't let him continue. Because she didn't know the words yet, to respond. She didn't know any words that could describe how she felt. _Gratitude _didn't cut it. _Relief _wasn't accurate either. _Love _– well, she was beyond love two decades ago.

So, she kissed him again. Until they were both breathless and panting. Until the ice chipped off her heart, and her body was hot and humming. Until his arms felt real around her, his voice felt close, and her mouth was tired with honesty. She couldn't tell him with her words, so she told him with her lips, and teeth, and tongue.

She told him, and he heard her.

They told everyone not to come around. Which – _surprise, surprise _– didn't take much convincing

Every morning, she pressed her leg against his under the breakfast table. Every evening, they broke open a bottle of champagne and got drunk in the living room. For three nights in a row, Bonnie laughed until she cried, and Damon smiled so hard he thought his face was going to crack.

"I still can't believe it's over," Bonnie said, snorting with giggles. "I feel so… so…" Her nose twitched. "I don't even know how I feel."

"Yeah," Damon agreed. She was _too beautiful_ like this. Open, and smiling and bright-eyed. How could he not have fallen in love with her? How could he not be falling deeper, still?

"I'm sorry I've been so…"

"Weird. Cold. Distant," Damon supplied.

"Yeah…" Bonnie shook her head. "I guess I was scared that… no one…" _Cared._

"I do," Damon said. He reached out and this time, he touched her cheek. She leaned in and closed her eyes. She sighed his name and this time, it sent a thrill through him.

"I didn't want to be let down again," a hot tear fell from her closed eye and he brushed it away with his thumb. "Hope is a dangerous thing, Damon."

He stared at her for a long moment, wondering if she was trying to tell him something. _Was he hoping for too much_?

"I guess I should add Kai to the list," she said. She pulled back from his hand, but not before grazing his thumb with her warm lips. When he looked at her quizzically, she clarified: "Of things you'll save me from."

Damon smiled, and she felt herself warm up all over.

"I'm glad it was you," Bonnie continued. Her heart thudded in her chest. All the words she had piled up over the past couple weeks were just erupting now. "Stuck there with me. I am so glad," his hand found hers, and her voice slowed. He trailed a finger up her arm. "…that it was you."

"Me too," he said. He didn't hesitate this time. He pulled her closer, until their lips were a breath apart. In a low, desperate voice, he said: "Hope isn't dangerous with me. I'll always come back."

"I love you," Bonnie blurted out. Her heart swelled and her stomach swam with unreasonable fear. He laughed, softly, between them. Both hands were on her face. His lips brushed against hers.

"I love you, too, Bon-Bon."

There were three things better than coming home to Bonnie Bennett, after all: going to bed with her, waking up beside her, and hearing her sigh his name in her sleep during the hours in between.

Bonnie was back to skinny jeans that made her ass look fantastic, earth-tone sweaters and, regrettably, bras. She even started school at Whitmore again. She majored in Occult Studies, but got excused from Alaric's classes. She decided she didn't want to move back into the dorms, after all. She kept her distance from Mystic Falls, but politely declined to help tear down the barrier.

Damon watched her warm up like a long-awaited spring. But he couldn't help but worry that, when the frost left, so would she.

One day, he walked into the apartment to find her standing there, suitcase in hand.

"Are you," Damon swallowed sharply as he looked at her. "Moving out?"

Bonnie blinked at him. Her breath caught in her chest. "Did you want me to?"

"No."

"Good," she grinned. "Because I don't really have anywhere to go. So… if you're looking for a roommate."

Damon's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. "Well, that all depends."

Bonnie smirked. "On?"

"How you plan on paying the rent."

Her smirk deepened. She pinned him with her eyes and sauntered forward. He felt his throat tighten at the sight.

"What are you doing?" he asked, when her hands found his jean belt loops.

Bonnie leaned forward, on the tips of her toes, and kissed him. As their mouths met, she flicked the words from her tongue to his: _saving you. _

His voice was heavy, his eyes half-lidded and his arms were tight around her, when, at last, he whispered: "Welcome home."


End file.
